_Alexis Soyer, the Gastronomic Regenerator._--Everybody who knows him,
everybody who has sat before his dishes, everybody interested in the
promotion of the Reform cause, or who likes to have a good dinner at
home, has long since said in his heart “Why does not Soyer write a book
about cookery?” When Reform was flagging, when Peel had it all his own
way, before a country party was thought of, or a revolt seemed possible,
when the idea of the Whigs coming in was hopeless, and the party
therefore needed consolation, what did Soyer do? At that moment of
general depression Alexis Soyer invented _cutlets à la réforme_. _He_
didn’t despair, _he_ knew the _avenir_ that was before the party. He
rallied them round the invigorating table, from which they rose cheered
and courageous; flushed with victuals, their attack upon the enemy was
irresistible (as under such circumstances the charge of Britons always
is), and Downing-street may be said to be the dessert of the dinners in
Pall-mall. He is one of the greatest politicians and pacificators in the
world. If they had him in Conciliation-hall, even there they would leave
off quarrelling. Look at his influence upon the diplomacy of our
country! In this very day’s paper appears an account of a dinner at that
very Reform Club which Soyer loves, and which has stood as sponsor to
the great cutlets which he invented--of a dinner at which Lord
Palmerston and Ibrahim Pacha had their hands in the same dish of pilaff,
and the maker of that dish was Alexis Soyer. To such a noble and
magnanimous spirit as Soyer’s evidently is, such a meeting will cause
pride and thankfulness indeed. It is a happy omen. They have eaten salt
together, and the peace of the world is assured.
How it was that Gibbon came to write the ‘Decline and Fall;’ under what
particular circumstances Newton conceived the theory of gravitation; how
Scott invented his works, &c., are historic anecdotes with which all
persons interested in literature are familiar. It is always pleasant to
know how and where a great thought came into the brain of a great man,
and so it is agreeable to know how this cookery book, which all the
world longed for, was suggested to Soyer. (See the Preface.)
Surely this preface is one of the most remarkable documents that ever
ushered any book into the world. Soyer has made it a rule never to
refuse anything in his power to the ladies (the rogue)!--and, amongst
other favours, they asked him for a cookery-book. The request caused
him “a thrill of horror;” but being in a library in the midst of a hall,
where he met with _one_ of Milton’s allegorical works, Locke’s profound
ideas, and several _chefs d’œuvre_ of that noble champion of
literature, Shakspeare, what should his eye turn to but a cookery-book
closeted in such company! “The terrifying effect of that succulent
volume” made him determine that he never would write a book of the
culinary sort.
What was the consequence? The very determination not to write, forced
him into “a thousand gastronomic reflections.” Write he must, and it was
sheer modesty that generated the Regenerator. Mark the pleasantry upon
the word “lost,” the last word in the preface, and fancy Soyer lost in
Paradise. Tempter! if you had been in any such place, to what could you
not have persuaded the first gourmand! In fine, Soyer determined to
write this book, because he justly “considered that the pleasures of the
table are an every-day enjoyment, _which reflects good and evil on all
classes_.” And when we remember that he has written the work in ten
months, during which he has also supplied 25,000 dinners to the
gentlemen of the Reform Club, and 38 dinners of importance, comprising
70,000 dishes; that he had to provide daily for 60 servants, and to do
the honours of the club to 15,000 visitors, one may fancy what genius
and perseverance can accomplish. He says he is “entirely satisfied with
the composition, distribution, and arrangement of the volume.” _Exegit
monumentum_ in fact. He has been and done it. He gives you his
signature, his portrait _en buste_, and another full length, in which he
is represented in his parlour at home (where, in spite of his
avocations, he has leisure to receive his friends and consume a most
prodigious quantity of victuals), surrounded by a select society of
private friends, dispensing to them some of the luxuries which he
describes in his 700 pages.
After a few prefatory observations about carving, for which he has
invented a new and apparently successful, though unintelligible
method--about larding, which he recommends to the English “middle
classes”--the seasons of fish and game, &c.--the utensils for the
kitchen--Soyer plunges into sauces at once, as the great test of
culinary civilization. The key-sauces are the White Sauce, No. 7, and
the Brown Sauce, No. 1. They are the _principia_ of the science--they
are the sauces which Soyer daily and principally uses. If the reader
suspects that we are going to transcribe the formula for the preparation
of these sauces, he is disappointed. No; let those who want the sauce
buy the book, and enjoy both.
From sauces we go to “Potages or Soups” (and what are these, in fact,
but diluted and agreeable sauce?), commencing with the clear light
broth, or FIRST STOCK of soup, and proceeding to a hundred delicious
varieties--the Louis Philippe, the Jerusalem, the Marcus-Hill, the
Princess Royal, &c. Nothing can be more delicate or worthy of a young
princess than this latter little soup; whereas the “potage à la
comtesse,” beginning with “cut half a pound of lean ham with an onion,”
is of a much stronger character. All these soups are flavoured with
appropriate observations, as, for instance--“In fact it is much better
for all thick soups to be too thin than too thick.” Louis Philippe soup,
he says, should contain “Brussels sprouts, _boiled very green_.” Here is
sorely some wicked satire here.
From soup we come to fish, as in the order of nature; thence to the
hors-d’œuvre and removes, to the flancs, the entrées, the roasts, the
vegetables, the sweets, or the entremets, and the second-course removes.
As the critic reads from page to page his task becomes absolutely
painful, so delicious is the style, so “succulent” are the descriptions,
and so provoking the hunger which they inspire. Every now and then you
get anecdotes, historical and topographical allusions, &c. (See p. 472.)
How finely it is written! “Will _your excellency_ call to-morrow
morning?” Talleyrand’s friend says nothing, but you see his rank at
once, and when his excellency is gone, the Prince of Benevent rings the
bell and orders--some of his favorite dishes. There is an account in the
volume of crawfish aux truffes à la Sampayo, which makes one almost
frantic with hunger.
And what will the reader say to this dish, which is the invention, not
of Soyer the cook, but of Soyer the poet:--“The Celestial and
Terrestrial Cream of Great Britain.” (See p. 710.)
If this dish was provided for his Highness Ibrahim Pacha last night, no
Eastern prince since the days of the Barmecide was ever so entertained.
_Ardebit Alexim._ His Highness will be bribing away this Gascon genius
at any price to Cairo. He will become---- Pacha, and the cause of Reform
will begin to droop.
Besides poetry, there are pictures in this incomparable volume. The
dindonneau à la Nelson (of which the croustade is the bow of a ship, in
compliment to the hero of Aboukir) is a picture worthy of Turner. The
engraving of Soyer’s own parlour, where a pretty maid is in waiting (and
an exceedingly pretty girl, by the way, is seated by the great artist)
is an enticing interior, in which any man would like to let his portrait
appear. The picture of “Salade de Grouse à la Soyer” is a capital
portrait, and will be recognized by all who know and love the original.
Soyer’s own portrait we have mentioned before. But perhaps the finest
and most interesting work of art in the volume, is the plate at p. 294,
which represents, of the natural size, a mutton cutlet, a pork cutlet,
and a lamb cutlet. This cut--this plate of cutlets we should say--is
incomparable.